


all of my goodness is gone with you now

by solacefruit



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: F/F, OC Cats - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 06:19:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17657528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solacefruit/pseuds/solacefruit
Summary: In the old stories, Riverclan warriors were always beautiful and powerful.Inherstory, she dripped with blood from a fresh bite and the Thunderclan warrior with a mouth red as holly berries before her was… beautiful.





	all of my goodness is gone with you now

**Author's Note:**

> _I couldn't utter my love when it counted,_   
>  _ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now..._

Darnelnose shook her head, sensing hot beads of blood scatter against the surrounding leaflitter. Time felt viscous around her—slow, like honey dripping from a torn hive.

Her enemy snarled; every tooth, sharp as a hawthorn spine and white as new bone, caught the light of the sickle moon. She could see, faintly, her own fur between the fangs.

“Last chance,” growled Nettletail, “don’t make me tear your throat out.”

“You couldn’t if you tried,” Darnelnose heard herself reply. Her neck throbbed with every heartbeat. Her chest burned with the tiredness of fighting.

Around her, bodies moved as long, jagged shadows, colliding with a faraway-seeming wail and the rip of claws against skin. The river behind them shone a holy silver, like every story Darnelnose had ever heard: she appreciated it less now, with her back against one of the middling Sunningrocks and the ancestors, it seemed, somewhere she couldn’t hear them cheer for her.

In the old stories, Riverclan warriors were always beautiful and powerful.

In _her_ story, she dripped with blood from a fresh bite and the Thunderclan warrior with a mouth red as holly berries before her was… beautiful.

She stood before Darnelnose, half in shadow, stiff with fury and fear like every warrior on the battlefield. Her magnificent brush of a tail swept the ground.

“Run,” said Nettletail.

“I won’t,” said Darnelnose. “I have a duty.”

 _I wish I could leave it_ , she didn’t say.

“So do I,” growled Nettletail, in full moonlight now as she stepped closer. Her grey fur was plain: unextraordinary and slightly rough, even when illuminated in that kind glow. Darnelnose didn’t notice.

Instead, she smelled the softly acrid pine scent that clung to it; she noticed the smell of the earth they never had in Riverclan, dry and warm and rich with verdant rot. She wondered what life was like, among the trees and the songs of birds.

“I’d prefer not to hurt you more,” said Nettletail. Her claws were still drawn. Her ears were flat to her skull.

 _I’m sorry_ , Darnelnose didn’t say.

“We can’t all have what we want,” she spat instead. Her front paw winced as she put weight on it, so she held it against her chest.

She watched Nettletail’s eyes narrow, taking in the clotting blood on her black fur, the pain in her stance.

“ _Glory to Riverclan_ ,” said Darnelnose, through gritted fangs. “These stones will always be ours.”

Nettletail leapt, aiming for the favoured paw, not realising the trick until too late. Darnelnose struck with all her might, and caught delicate flesh.

There was a ferocious, screaming struggle.

Then it was over, and Darnelnose was alone.

The shape of Nettletail was already in the distance, sprinting crookedly back towards the forest, head bowed.

 _Ancestors_ , Darnelnose didn’t say, panting hard, _are you proud of me?_

But, of course, there came no reply. Among the rocks, there were only sounds of writhing and hissing, and only the smell of hot bodies and damp, river-soaked soil.

Darnelnose looked down at her paws. Bloodied grey fur clung to her claws.

 _Ancestors_ , Darnelnose didn’t dare to say, _how can pride feel so much like shame?_

**Author's Note:**

> _but your grounded and giving_   
>  _and darkening scorn;_   
>  _remember me, love, when I'm reborn._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> — Hozier, "Shrike."
> 
> Work created as part of the [Ailuronymy Writing Challenge](http://ailuronymy.tumblr.com/tagged/ailuronymy-writing-challenge) (1. Love at first bite).


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